by M. Barnette
She sobbed harder.
There'd been no time to say goodbye, no time for anything but the sudden cold brutality of senseless death.
Her face pressed to the blond's shoulder, she became aware of his warmth. His strength. Nikki comprehended with the stunning clarity of a revelation that she actually felt safe in the circle of his arms. Safe in a way that even Hawk's reassuring presence had never evoked.
But it was all a foolish dream, an illusion left from a better age, a better time. There was no safety.
In the end Hawk hadn't kept them safe, even with Dal's help. The Rangers had caught up with them and that was the end of it. Even Bells himself hadn't kept them from dying. But he'd surely tried.
Hawk was a good, strong, and capable man. Immortal. Good with a gun. But he hadn't carried himself with the same cool confidence Bells showed under fire.
Hawk had been in the Second World Conflict when he'd been a young man.
But he hadn't really been a warrior.
And that, Nikki realized, was exactly what Bells was: a warrior. Not simply a killer. No. Roderik was that. A murderer and master of rapine. Bells was a soldier, a fighter, and whatever else he might be, she knew in her heart that he would do whatever was necessary in order to protect her. He'd sworn he would do it, and she believed him, but she wasn't going to be a passenger in her life either. Whatever it took, she wanted to help him keep herself out of Roderik's hands.
She'd find a way to make Roderik pay for what he'd done to her, Anya, and her friends. Dragon or not. Immortal or not. Roderik had to die. He had to.
Because if he didn't he'd wind up ruling what remained of the United States, and that would be a real taste of the Apocalypse.
It had been something they'd talked about, her and Hawk, Dal and Anya. Finding a way to bring down Roderik's little Kingdom of Hell. And now they were dead, and any hope they had of Hawk and Bells managing to kill Roderik were gone.
As dead and gone as Chet and Anya.
The question of what had happened to Hawk and Dal ate at her and she cried harder. At least Chet and Anya were beyond Roderik's grasp. But Dal? Hawk? What had happened to them?
She might never know, and that was even worse than knowing the other two were dead because she'd always wonder what had happened. And she'd never know.
Her sobs renewed, but the power was leeching from them. Her eyes and head ached, and she weary from grief. But the tears wouldn't stop. They just wouldn't stop.
* * * *
Bells cradled her close, stroking her hair, rocking her gently as she wept, letting her cry out her pain. Willing to hold her all night if that was what it took to give her comfort, he listened to her sobs and wanted to kill the men who'd done this to her with a fury bordering on madness. A rage he had to keep in check because he didn't dare leave her to exact vengeance.
There was a flare of heat, a Beast seeking to win free of the restraints that held it in check. Awareness of her burned through his body, warming his blood. He clamped a lid on the reaction, but her softness against his chest, the tight clasp of her arms around his neck, the proximity of her sweetly rounded behind in his lap was almost more than he could stand.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd had sex, much less the last time he'd made love. But then, what could he remember? Roughly thirty-six hours out of exactly how many years of life? Hell, he didn't even know how old he was. For Immortals, even mirrors lied.
"They're dead...” she sobbed out. “Anya ... Chet ... Dal."
He looked down at her tear streaked face, “I'm sorry. I really am, Nikki."
"And Hawk. What happened to Hawk?"
"I don't know. He probably got away. I didn't see him, and if they'd captured him we would have heard them celebrating.” He tried to reassure her on at least that, but personally he didn't know if Hawk had escaped or not. He'd been too busy keeping Nikki and Anya alive in the hail of lead.
In the end he'd failed Anya. That hurt, too. A woman and her unborn child dead because he'd failed. He tightened his arms around Nikki, pressed his cheek to her hair. Only one saved. One precious life out of the four he'd accepted responsibility to protect. Chet he mourned, but Anya and her unborn child ... losing them was a dark stain almost worse than any other sin he'd ever committed. And he'd committed so damned many.
He'd put Nikki on the front of the bike, not Anya. He'd put the other woman and himself between her, and there was some undeniable instinct telling him that, despite Anya's condition, Nikki was the one who came first. The one he had to protect no matter what. The knowledge chilled him, and sent a whip of flame through his blood.
"Oh, God.... they're gone ... gone..."
She was sobbing again, and he caressed her face, touching the tears, brushing them away. “Shhhhh..” he murmured. “You couldn't have saved them.” But a little voice in his own head told him if he'd protected them the way Hawk had wanted, if he'd taken charge of the situation, Anya and Chet might still be alive, too. Without a vehicle they wouldn't have all escaped, and there was no way in hell that truck could have gone fast enough to outrun the military vehicles. Not burning oil the way it did.
"I know ... but I miss them so much already.” She was shaking, her tears falling onto his chest.
"Nikki,” he wanted to take her pain away. Wanted to make the hurt stop.
And he couldn't.
"Oh, Bells, they're gone, they're gone! And Roderik isn't going to stop chasing me. Not ever!"
Pulling her tighter into his embrace, he kissed the top of her head, the soft fragrance of her hair adding more heat to the molten lava already churning inside him. The buttons on his jeans were getting remarkably uncomfortable.
"What will we do now? Where will we go?” She was still crying, clinging to him as if he was important to her, as if she wanted him and not the friends she'd just lost.
"Not Horton. That's what the Rangers expected. At least that would be my guess since it was the nearest town. I took a different road. We're heading north now, not west.” He could hear the roughness of passion in his voice. He swallowed, hoping she'd missed it.
"But what about the Rangers?"
"They'll be more interested in chasing Hawk, and Dal,” he tried to sound reassuring, but wasn't sure how successful he was. He was at a loss for something to say, so he kept quiet.
"Dal? Do you think he's alive?"
"He might very well be, Nikki. Tigers are resilient, one of the toughest non-Immortals around."
"Keane was tough and you took him down,” she remarked.
"Grizzlies aren't all that tough if you know their weaknesses,” he murmured, as he stroked her back, too aware of her body, too aware of her behind in his lap. And certainly too damned aware of how tight and painful his jeans had gotten.
"We'd been doing good, staying ahead of them. What went wrong? How could it have all gone so wrong?"
"I don't know, Nikki. Maybe if the truck hadn't broken down, or if Chet hadn't found the house ... Or if a million other things had or hadn't happened, it might be different. Who knows? I don't. I never have understood why one person lives and another one dies.” Bells was speaking softly, whispering in her ear as he caressed her back, feeling the tension of emotional exhaustion that was making her shudder uncontrollably.
"I'd be dead if you hadn't gotten there when you did.” She held him tighter and he felt something south of his navel tighten even more, the ache already passed the point of pain. That would teach him to wear button fly jeans.
* * * *
Abruptly she pulled away, “Oh, God. How bad are you hurt?” she asked, the sudden memory he'd been shot in the back rising up to show her how unutterably selfish she'd been.
Her hands fumbled with the buckles that held his jacket closed.
"I'm fine, just bruised. The jacket's bullet proof."
She'd gotten one buckle open, “I want to make sure."
She slipped out of his lap, helping him to get the jacket off. She pulled up his shirt and star
ed.
His back a mass of bruising, not just from the bullet she knew about, but from other things as well. “Bells, I'm so sorry. You've got to be in pain. Maybe there's some aspirin or acetaminophen here somewhere."
A warm hand closed gently around her wrist as she stood up, her eyes searching the darkness beyond their small pool of light.
"It's all right, Nikki. Really. I'm already healing."
She regarded him skeptically. “I just don't believe you aren't in pain."
There was drying blood on his thigh. She'd been sitting on that leg.
"I've been so selfish,” she murmured as she touched the bullet hole in his jeans, and noticed something else. A hard bulge in his jeans that his jacket had hidden before.
"Don't worry about it, Nikki. That and the bruises will be gone by morning.” His voice was reassuring, gentle and she lifted her gaze away from his evident arousal to find herself staring into brilliant cerulean eyes that caught the candlelight and seemed to glow.
Were glowing. She glanced away and found her eyes back on the hard line of his erection. She swallowed.
"I just want to help,” she murmured. Tears flooded her eyes again as she realized how much he was probably hurting, and he'd been taking care of her without a single complaint. Like Hawk or Dal would have done, minus the rampant evidence he wanted more from her than just a few aspirins and an admonishment to rest.
"Come here,” there was a distinctive growl in his tone as he pulled her gently into his lap and set his lips to hers in a kiss that scorched her to the bottom of her soul. It was a hungry, demanding, possessive kiss, and her body reacted strongly to his passion, nipples tightening while her mind reacted with panic. Roderik's brutal abuse was warring with her desire for the blond.
When he broke the kiss, Bells was breathing raggedly, eyes blazing, the irises very evidently glowing in the candlelight.
"I shouldn't have done that,” he told her quietly as he turned his head away, the bells at the ends of his braids chiming sweetly.
Nikki stared at him, her heart pounding. Did she dare? Could she do it? Steeling her nerve, she said, “No. You shouldn't have.” Grabbing a handful of his braids, she set her mouth to his, giving back as good as she'd gotten. Her lips parted, her tongue sliding along the seam of his lips which opened, giving her entrance. Bells was letting her be the aggressor, their tongues writhing in a seductive dance.
He pulled away, eyes alight. “Too many clothes,” he said as he stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. Before she could reciprocate he grabbed the bottom of her blouse and pulled it gently off over her head, his hands reaching behind her to free her breasts from the bra she was wearing.
Nikki gasped as his mouth closed over a peaked nipple, his tongue sweeping across the sensitive flesh while his hands sought the button and zipper of her jeans.
Part of her mind was sounding an alarm, whimpering in fear over what they were going to do. Roderik had been brutal, rough, his brand of sex more like the rutting of a beast than the act of a human being. And always he'd restrained her, held her helpless to his will. She was a thing to sate his appetite, not a person.
But Bells wasn't nearly as physically menacing as Roderik, who towered over her the same way Hawk did. No, the slim blond was only an inch taller at most, and he didn't have the unbelievably powerful musculature of the other man. He was fit and lean, a graceful athlete built for speed. Next to him, Roderik's bulky weightlifter's physique would look clumsy and ill-formed. He wasn't a tall man, but he was perfect in form, and far more beautiful than any man, Immortal or otherwise, had a right to be.
She kissed him, gripping his hair at the nape of his neck, seeing how long he'd let her have the dominant role.
* * * *
His mind was telling him he shouldn't be doing what he was doing, but his body wanted more, and so did the powerful creature at the center of his being. The taste of her skin, the scent of her body inflamed him. He wanted to back away, leave the room, douse himself in a pool of ice water. He wanted to claim her, make the woman his as the Beast strained at the chains he'd bound it with. His mental control was battling the power of his own soul and part of him had to lose—either his mind, which was crying out against his desire, or the creature's passion. Both sides couldn't win.
Her mouth on his was hot and sweet. The salt of her tears added a poignancy to their kiss. It wasn't really him she wanted. It was the solace of pleasure, of human contact, and the closeness of warm skin on skin.
He couldn't deny her that comfort. Wouldn't because she needed him, if only for the moment. If only to ease her own pain. It would be enough. Would have to be enough because he couldn't risk letting It get free.
"Nikki...” he gasped her name, breaking their kiss to stare into her heated sable eyes. Her fingers were tangled in his braids, gripping them tightly. Under the passion there was a trace of fear, and he understood that someone had hurt her. A man had hurt her. And he knew who that man must be. Roderik.
Fury rose up from the darkest regions of his soul and he slammed down the emotion, a tremor running through him at the nearness of the disaster he'd barely curtailed. It was seething to get free, fighting for release. He focused on Nikki to cool the rage with another kind of emotion, one less caustic in its virulence. And for him unbridled desire was almost as dangerous as hate. Courting disaster on either hand, he would at least retain more conscious volition under the lash of passion than he'd retain under the driving fire of a murderous rage.
Going slowly, watching her eyes for any traces of panic, he pulled her jeans off, sliding his hands down her long legs, revealing creamy flesh, feminine perfection. Her sex was covered with a pair of silky pink panties, the color reminding him of the soft petals of a woman's inner folds. The delicate satin of her most tender flesh. He knelt in to dip his tongue into her navel, then stood slowly, drawing a line of damp flame up her stomach and across her right breast. Her hand was still locked tightly in his hair, pulling, adding a tiny hint of pain that added a piquancy to the desire heating him. It felt good and he wanted more.
He heard the catch of her breath. Saw the way her body shuddered, the nipples of her breasts peaking so tightly it looked like it should hurt. He drew the tip of his tongue around the areola, one hand pressed at the small of her back, holding her still for his exploration.
She tensed slightly and he eased his hold, sensitive to her reactions, both positive and negative, learning what she liked and what sent a dampening of desire through her on the wings of fear. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. He wanted her to know nothing but pleasure from his every touch, his every whispered breath across the silk of her skin.
"Bells...” she almost screamed his name as he closed his mouth around the stiffened nub, sucking, teasing it with the edges of his teeth.
Pulling away, he met her gaze. Awakened desire warmed her sable eyes. “Do you want this from me?"
"Yes!” There was no reservation or hesitation in her reply, nor in the way she kissed him afterward, her entire being seeking what he offered with the same intensity he had sought her. Her answer was as immediate as her need, and just as heated as his own.
"Good.” He swept her up off her feet and lay her down on the bed, kissing her breasts and throat, easing his weight down on her a bit, gauging her reaction.
When she froze, a look of rising terror in her eyes, he understood what had been done to her. He shoved his own flash of wrath aside and raised himself off of her to shower her soft body with kisses, driving away the panic.
"Please, please,” she gasped, fumbling with the button on his jeans.
Eyes burning, he left the bed, pulled his boots and pants off, his gaze locked on the beauty of her face, the perfection of her form. Female. Feminine. Delicate and beautiful. But she was strong of spirit. Capable. Courageous.
And he wanted her.
* * * *
Nikki devoured the hard planes of his body with her eyes, taking in the impressive size of his cock.
But what really caught her attention was the way he stared at her. His eyes were filled with a raw, primal desire that ignited a slow burning heat low in her belly while it sent a flutter of unreasoning terror through her.
He is not Roderik, she reminded herself firmly.
She held her arms out to him in invitation, spreading her thighs like a wanton whore.
"You're beautiful,” he murmured as he joined her on the bed, most of his weight held off of her, the blue flame of his eyes felt like they were staring into her very soul.
"So are you,” she told him as she raised her hands to touch his shoulders, caressing warm golden skin. He was the same shade everywhere except his cock, which was darker, engorged with blood. The ends of his pale gold braids brushed her breasts, the contrast between the tickling of the feathers and the cool caress of the silver bells adding a exotic eroticism to what she was feeling. A chill swept through her.
His lips were hot, almost scalding as he kissed his way down her body, lapping at her flesh with his tongue. Or perhaps it was just her own passion that made every touch of his mouth, every caress of his hand feel like the kiss of a branding iron searing his mark on her. No one had touched her like this since before the Collapse, his mouth and hands exploring everywhere, tasting, teasing, until she thought she'd go mad with need. She felt the heat of his breath through the thin barrier of her panties and she moaned, wanting to throw her legs around his head and make him do more. Much more.
"Bells ... please...” she gasped out, tense from the desire he brought to life. She knew her panties were soaked, her body wet and aching for the stiffness of his cock to plunge into her heated center. She'd been used by men since the Collapse, had lovers before that, but none of her experiences had prepared her for the assault of a skilled man who took pride in his ability to pleasure a woman.
The scars in her heart and soul began to heal under his masterful touch, memories of Roderik's cock slamming inside her helpless body fading under the blond's caresses.
His kisses and touches stopped and when she looked up he was smiling. A wicked gleam lit his gaze and he leaned down to grip the thin fabric of her panties in his teeth, working them down without so much as the slightest touch of his hands. His breath, the touch of the feathers, the cooler sensation of the bells and beads at the ends of his braids created an experience that stole her breath and left her hotter and wetter than she'd ever gotten in her life.